In this day of people not taking pride in their job, I appreciate it conscientious attitude. Really, I do. But I…AM…ON…DEADLINE. I do not have time for questions. I do, however, need the wall completed, so I stop to answer his every question with a smile before closing the door and swearing all the way back to my computer.

 

I finished the article in fits and starts, then let it simmer a bit so I could look at it later and make sure it reads well. Interrupted writing time does not make good writing. In the meantime the mason leaves and I discover I have about 90 minutes of straight writing time. Whoopee! What to do? I decide to work on my book. That is on deadline, too, albeit a self-imposed deadline. I am attending a fiction conference during which I get to pitch my books to an agent. I have one book published already, but it was published by a small publisher. I want a big publisher, at least for paperback rights. That is my true goal in life. To be a well-published, well-read novelist. If I complete this first draft of the next book in time, I will be able to show them I am a serious writer and a good risk for their agency to take. In short, I will make us all money because I am serious about doing so.

 

I just hit my groove with the story flowing and the pieces all fitting together, and am just about to wrap it up so I can start picking up kids, when the doorbell rings. It’s my mother. She is dropping off a plant I left at her house last night. I left the plant my nephew bought me for Mother’s Day (awww!) because I had to leave dinner to attend a meeting. I am the V.P. of an arts council, so I had to get to this meeting and needed my husband to pick up the plant when he dropped in for dessert and picked up the boys.

 

Anyway, poor Mom. She has a daughter who never has time for drop-ins and she always gets out of work and to my house just as I am about to leave. I had to dash across town to get one child before making it back in time to pick up the other. My reason was noble: to give them time to play on the playbground on this suddenly beautiful day. So much for nobility. I didn’t make it in time. I saved my work just in time to pick up the kid at the school with the big playground, but without enough time to pick up his brother first. The little one had time to play with his friends outside, though, so I guess that was a good thing.

 

So…

 

To the mason: The wall looks beautiful, really.

To my mother: ‘Sorry I don’t have time for drop-ins.

To the kid who needs to be wiped: ‘Be right there.

 

Happy Mother’s Day to all of us who work from home.